


oopsie-daisy

by schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (a little), Anal Fingering, Anxious David Rose, Begging, Coda, Comfort, Coming Untouched, David has some insecurities, Dirty Talk, Episode: s06e02 The Incident, Laughter During Sex, Light-Hearted, M/M, Masturbation, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexy sexy comfort, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/schittyfic
Summary: “Just. There’s no way you actually find me sexy right now.”“Seriously?” Patrick gestures to the mouthguard on the bedside table. “D’you still find me sexy?”“Yes, duh,” David says, a little frustrated, because that’s clearly different. “Your... little plastic thingies are all well and good, but they don’t involvebodily fluids. All over yourfavourite sheets.”-Or: David has a hard time processing that Patrick could still be attracted to him after 'the incident'. Patrick goes to painstakingly thorough lengths to demonstrate how wrong he is.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 42
Kudos: 294





	oopsie-daisy

**Author's Note:**

> So, I am working on the next installment of the uncharted territory series - watch this space! - but it's hard to find the time to give it the justice it deserves, and sometimes you just gotta write the porn that's in your heart, folks.
> 
> This directly follows on from the end of s6ep2, The Incident, which happens to be one of my favourite David/Patrick episodes. Pls accept my apologies for the uninspired title.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“Okay, put it away, David. It’s bedtime.” 

David can’t believe he still finds that no-nonsense, decisive tone sexy when the words are garbled around a mouthguard. He definitely _does_ , though, so he just lets Patrick snatch his phone out of his hand and kiss him again, his vague curiosity over Ronnie’s text quickly forgotten. He’s glad Patrick loses the ‘nose thing’ this time - the fit of their mouths together is less awkward, but he can’t help giggling as his tongue feels its way along the bulky plastic mould, and he can feel Patrick’s shoulders shaking with mirth under his hands.

He’d kiss him for hours like this, David realises; he’d absolutely ravish him right this second, even if he kept the mouthguard in the whole time, even if he had the stupid nose thing in too. _My God, is this what married life is going to be?_ David wonders, and he’s strangely fine with it.

“Mkay, as beautiful as _this_ is,” David waves an open palm in front of Patrick’s mouth as his fiancé grins cheesily at him to show off the guard, “I’d also be okay if you wanted to take it out. You know, so _you’re_ more comfortable.”

“That is so considerate of you, David.” His tone and his expression are mockingly sincere, and David has to laugh again when all his ‘s’ sounds come out as ‘sh’. “I was kinda curious to see if I can suck your dick with it in, though.”

David blinks rapidly. He’s silent for just a second too long, and Patrick actually does remove the mouthguard so he can peer into David’s face, all searching and sweet.

“Hey - I know you’ve had a bit of a day. We don’t have to do anything tonight, you know that.”

“No, it’s - it’s not that,” David says quickly, because he’s admittedly a little hard just from kissing him, even from the ridiculous notion of him sucking him off with the guard in the way - he definitely _wants_ , but there’s just. _Something,_ holding him back. 

Patrick doesn’t say anything, just waits, because he’s perfect and patient and knows precisely when to push him and when to allow him a little breathing room, a little time to order his thoughts. His hand rests lightly on David’s hip, thumb stroking warm and safe just under his striped top.

Over the years of fizzled-out flames and fraught semi-relationships, David cultivated a version of himself that he liked others to see. He projected style, composure, stoicism; he barely smiled, barring a sardonic smirk over an overpriced cocktail when he knew that was all he needed to get someone in his bed at the end of the night. And sure, he’d never liked that guy - never liked any iteration of himself, particularly - but people wanted that guy. He was sexy. They wanted him on their arm, wanted to bring him home, wanted to strip him and fuck him and worship him. Even if they left before the sheets got cold, feeling superior and somewhat unattainable was _safe_ \- it was what he was used to, and it went hand-in-hand with absolutely never trusting anyone as far as he could throw them, because for all he knew, they were all doing exactly the same thing. 

What happened last night - the _oopsie-daisy,_ he was going to _dismember_ his mother for introducing that into Patrick’s vernacular - was the furthest possible thing from sexy, or composed, or any of the attributes David liked to wrap himself in. It was gross and mortifying and _real_ , almost like a final layer torn off, leaving him naked and cold. He’s never let anyone see him - really see him, as a human with flaws and embarrassing moments and bodily functions. The fear is sharp in his bones; that Patrick has finally seen enough now to know David isn’t everything he cracked up to be.

“Just. There’s no way you actually find me sexy right now.”

“Seriously?” Patrick gestures to the mouthguard on the bedside table. “D’you still find me sexy?”

“Yes, duh,” David says, a little frustrated, because that’s clearly different. “Your... little plastic thingies are all well and good, but they don’t involve _bodily fluids_. All over your _favourite sheets_.”

Patrick makes an adorably incredulous face. “You’re being ridiculous. You could do a lot worse, and I’d still think you’re beautiful.”

“But, like - _sexy,_ though. Like, fine, you think I’m beautiful, whatever--” Patrick scoffs and shakes his head at him, “--but beautiful doesn’t mean, like, you _want_ me. Like, ‘hey, you make my dick hard, I wanna do filthy things to you’ kind of want me.”

“David.” Patrick presses two fingertips to David’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “I find you very, very sexy.” 

His voice is pitched a little lower than it was a minute ago, and when David meets his eyes with a struggle, they’re dark and serious and boring into his own, and he can’t look away. A warm thrill chases down his spine and his cock twitches hopefully - he knows that look. That look alone goes a long way to assuage his insecurities, but he really fucking hopes Patrick’s about to demonstrate, too.

David clears his throat, tries for casual and unaffected, but lands on hoarse. “Oh? You wanna do filthy things to me, then?”

“Well, now that you mention it,” and Patrick’s suddenly on top of him, kissing him so deep and focused that David’s head spins and all he can do is clutch at Patrick’s shoulders, scrabble at his back, try desperately to hold on anywhere he can. “You’ve got me so hard already,” Patrick whispers into his mouth, biting at David’s kiss-sensitive lips and grabbing his ass to grind their hips together messily - and oh, _yeah_ , David feels him, hot and solid through his thin pajamas.

Sometimes, Patrick likes to take his time kissing him - likes to make out for what feels like hours until they’re both gasping. Clearly, this isn’t one of those nights. 

David lets out a yelp as he’s flipped onto his stomach, laughing breathlessly and wiggling his hips to help Patrick tug down his sweatpants. His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it’s free, already thick and needy. Patrick doesn’t even pull them all the way off, leaving them bunched around his thighs as David automatically tilts his ass up, face down, Patrick’s hand skimming the curve of his spine. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s it. Look at that.”

David hides a whimper in the pillow as Patrick’s palms splay over his cheeks, slowly applying more and more pressure until he’s digging blunt nails into the flesh. Cool air kisses his hole as Patrick spreads him open, and then - nothing, nothing at all, just Patrick’s gaze heavy and focused on his most private spot. 

“Patrick - Patrick, come on.”

“What? I’m enjoying the view,” Patrick replies conversationally, but he rubs a dry thumb teasingly around David’s rim. “Could look at this pretty little hole all day. So hot seeing you spread out like this for me.”

David presses his face hard into the pillow, groans, arches his back further as his knees slip apart. He’s totally on show, and he hates it - but he fucking loves it all at once because he knows it’s _Patrick_ getting to see this, Patrick whose steady hands and encyclopaedic knowledge of his body are going to take him apart.

When Patrick’s tongue drags flat and slow over his hole, David instantly presses back for more, but he’s held in place by a strong grip and there’s a low, pleased chuckle behind him. “Oh, you want that.”

“ _Obviously_.”

“Ask nicely, then.”

A smile tugs at David’s lips, even as he feels an old twinge of vulnerability. It’s a familiar game at this point, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t like it. “Please - God, please.”

“Hmm. Please what, though?” Oh, he’s such a bastard. Patrick’s close enough that his breaths make David’s hole quiver and clench up, and when he doesn’t get an answer straight away, he bites at the meat of David’s ass, his thumbs dipping teasingly into his cleft just to brush over where he’s most sensitive and dance away again.

“ _Patrick_ \- for fuck’s sake, please eat me out, _please_ , I want it, I want your fucking tongue--” 

The words are strangled by a sharp gasp as Patrick buries his face in his ass, his tongue hungry and insistent and melting David’s bones. Patrick’s hands spreading him open are almost reverent, and he’s practically _making out_ with him, pouty lips kissing at his rim as his clever tongue laps at him over and over.

David hears a low, desperate moan, and takes a second to realise it’s not from him - the vibration chases hot-white up his spine and his cock throbs almost painfully, because Patrick sounds like he’s in fucking heaven and it’s because of _him_. He’s muttering muffled filth against him, the words punctuated by grunts and gasps, like he can barely control what’s spilling out of his mouth.

“Mm, yeah - love the way you taste. Feel you opening up so nice under my tongue. S’like you’re made for this. So pretty - pretty pink _fucking_ hole, God, you’re the sexiest _fucking_ thing I’ve ever seen.”

 _Holy shit._ David does moan, then, his cock jerking and dripping pre-come onto the sheets. He can probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever heard Patrick curse. Oh, he’ll whisper a litany of filth into his ear as he fucks him, inform him calmly of exactly what he’s going to do to him, but it’s like swearing just isn’t a part of his usual vocabulary. Patrick’s lips wrap around _'_ _fucking'_ so beautifully, the jarring harshness of it rushing straight to his ego - knowing he’s broken him enough to drag that out of him, knowing Patrick _wants_ him so completely that he’s forgetting himself. 

David grinds his hips urgently back against Patrick’s face and Patrick groans like he’s dying in the best way, squeezing and yanking him closer. David’s so sensitive, his hole puffy and twitching with each flick of Patrick’s tongue, his fucking _thighs_ trembling as he feels wetness dripping down his crack and over his balls - his cock is angry-red and aching, and he reaches for it, only to have his hand batted away.

“Rude,” he manages, the word raspy and desperate.

“Uh-uh. Just like this. You can do it.”

David whimpers that he can’t, he _can’t_ , he needs something more, he’s only come like this a handful of times. His entire body is squirming and jerking now as he grasps fistfuls of the sheets, and he’s not even sure if he’s trying to get closer or get away, it’s all too much and so _fucking good_ \- and suddenly Patrick sinks two thick fingers into his loose, sloppy hole, crooking them and rubbing up inside him just the way he likes, his tongue fucking into him quick and dirty-- 

David’s fist slams down onto the bed as his orgasm wracks his body, his cock spurting onto the mattress completely untouched. It lasts forever, a series of embarrassing cries escaping him as he shakes apart, Patrick mouthing at his tight balls and making him jerk all over again until he finally collapses onto the bed.

He’s pretty sure he’s dead. Death by rimming, is that a thing? He’s not sure how long he lays there with Patrick smoothing his hands over his back, slowly grounding him in reality again. Eventually, he gives a dazed giggle and peeks over his shoulder at Patrick - and holy _God_.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Patrick was the one who just got fucked to oblivion - his short hair is wildly tufted, a bright pink flush blossoming all the way down to his chest, and his mouth is so gorgeously swollen, all messy and wet. His chest heaves as he pins David with a molten gaze.

David has never felt sexier in his entire fucking life.

Quickly, Patrick turns him over once more, and David barks out a surprised laugh when the mattress _crinkles_ , reminding him of the extra layer. Patrick laughs too, breathless as he ducks down to press an unexpectedly chaste kiss to his lips. _I just wanted you to be comfortable in case it happened again_ , he said this morning, and only now that David’s dignity has somewhat recovered can he appreciate how achingly, perfectly sweet that is.

He _is_ comfortable.

God, he loves him.

“I wanna make you come,” David murmurs, mildly startled by how slurred his words are - he sounds drunk, body still humming with electricity. 

“Trust me, not gonna take a lot.” 

Patrick shoves his loose pajama pants down and starts stroking himself hard and fast, his free hand pushing and pulling at David until he’s splayed out for him, knees drawn up and legs spread so he can see absolutely everything. David has enough presence of mind to wriggle out of his sleep shirt, wanting to give him more, and Patrick practically growls as he takes in the miles and miles of skin on show.

David stretches out prettily and arches his back and hooks his hands behind his knees and lets his thighs fall further apart, preening under the attention. 

“God, David - yeah, that’s it, baby, spread those beautiful legs for me - look what you do to me, _fuck_ , make me feel so good, you drive me so fucking crazy--”

Jesus, if David could possibly get hard again he would, but all he can do is moan and beg and drink up the praise like he’s parched. “Yeah, come on me, come all over me,” he pants, and Patrick’s iron grip on his thigh tightens as his hand flies on his cock, coming hot and wet all over David’s stomach and his dick, dripping down over his puffy hole. 

Patrick falls forward, bracing himself above David and deliberately dragging his cockhead through the mess, sliding against his rim and up over his own sensitive dick, catching on the dark hair on his stomach. It’s gross - David asks for it, loves it, but instantly afterwards it becomes very gross - but he figures Patrick’s earned at least a few minutes of this.

“Still think I don’t find you sexy, or do we need to do that again?”

David drags him into a kiss in response, lazy and sloppy, both hands cradling his head like he’s something precious. He feels silly for his doubts now, but he swallows the potential snarky responses in favour of tucking a whispered, “Thank you,” into Patrick’s neck. Patrick presses a smile against David’s temple, and holds him close, ignoring David’s _ugh_ as their tacky bodies stick together. David withstands as long as he can, before finally patting at Patrick’s shoulders and pushing at him lightly. “Okay, okay, ew. You need to get me a washcloth, and I need to get out of this wet patch.”

Patrick snickers and lets him up, David grimacing at the state of the bed as he wriggles to the other side - they really did make an impressive mess. When Patrick returns from the bathroom, he grins from ear to ear, nodding at the wet patch. “Hey, at least I know the mattress isn’t ruined. Maybe we should keep that thing on permanently.”

David throws the washcloth right back in his face, and absolutely, definitely, does not laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments/kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> <3


End file.
